2:30 AM
by Lassiter
Summary: JohnRogue. "Rogue doesn't ask any questions when an inebriated John throws pebbles at her window at half past two in the morning."


DISCLAIMER: Names and places you recognize don't belong to me. I'm making no profit from this.  
NOTES: Written for amer_soeur's (LJ community) 'love without being obvious challenge.'

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**2:30 AM**

Rogue doesn't ask any questions when an inebriated John throws pebbles at her window at half past two in the morning. She lets him in. She listens to his haphazard story of throwing pebbles at another window for "like, an hour, or... yeah, an hour or something" before he realized it was the wrong window. Then she bitches him out.  
  
Quietly, of course. Wouldn't want to wake the other girls up. John may or may not be listening as he stares at the floor. John may or may not be staring at the floor. In the dark it's hard to tell. John used to go straight to his room after these late night excursions, but Bobby and Piotr aren't putting up with it anymore. The window is locked and the boys are soundly, frustratedly, pretending to be asleep as the pebbles go click click click on the windowpane. Click click click until John goes off to find Rogue instead. There have been pebbles clicking on her windowpane for three weeks now.  
  
"I don't know why you do shit like this," she continues, walking to the door. "I don't know where you go or what you do, and I don't want to know."  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"Keep your voice down," she hisses, and consciously lowers her own.  
  
"Where are you going?" asks John in a stage whisper.  
  
"To the door, as usual, to show you out. You know, so you can go to your room."  
  
She opens the door and the light pools in from the hallway, stretching across the floor to touch the bedposts, stopping millimeters in front of John's feet. He doesn't move.  
  
Rogue sighs. "Come on, John."  
  
"People are boring here," says John, sauntering into the light. "I mean, out there... that's why I go out, y'know? 'Cos here, people are, like... I feel sick."  
  
Rogue crosses her arms, waiting by the door.  
  
"I'm serious," says John. "I mean, people here don't let you in and pretend to sleep 'cos they're assholes and stuff, but seriously, I feel... fuck. Fuck."  
  
"John?"  
  
--  
  
Five minutes later she's rubbing his back as he vomits into the toilet. The sound offends her and makes her stomach twist, and Rogue feels the bile rising in her throat in empathy. "John, are you--"  
  
"Fuck," he gasps hoarsely, and vomits again.  
  
John grabs the edge of the toilet lid and Rogue watches his knuckles turn white. He shudders and pants and lets his head hang forward into the bowl. She wonders if his eyes are open or closed.  
  
Rogue stands up--John makes a noise of protest--and wets a towel in the sink. "John," she says softly, and offers him the towel.  
  
He stares at her with bleary eyes before accepting it. John wipes his mouth, wipes his face. Turns the towel over and buries his face within the terry-cloth folds. Rogue flushes the toilet, and he pushes himself away at the sound, pressing himself into a corner. Rogue replaces the lid and sits down.  
  
John says something into the towel.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm sorry," says John, louder. He looks up. "I'm sorry. You probably hate me."  
  
"I think you're an asshole sometimes," says Rogue. "I don't hate you."  
  
"You must hate that you've watched me throw up more than once."  
  
"I do."  
  
He nods his head. "Okay."  
  
There is a silence in which John studies the floor and Rogue studies John. When he looks up suddenly, meeting her eyes, she says, "You're a smart boy, sometimes."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Not now, though." She pauses. "Should I get someone to help you to your room?"  
  
"No, don't call Bobby."  
  
"I didn't say it was going to be Bobby."  
  
The barest hint of a smile appears on John's lips, and is immediately wiped out by a pained "Fuuuuuuuck." John curls into a ball in his corner, shutting out the world. Rogue is quiet as she waits for him to emerge once more. A minute later, she can hear soft snoring sounds.  
  
Rogue rolls her eyes, but doesn't leave. There is no way she's going to let John spend the rest of the night on the bathroom floor, but there was no need for action right away, not yet.  
  
The sink drips. She tightens the faucet, protecting the silence, and waits some more.  



End file.
